


Is There Somewhere

by laPamplemousse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Here Lies the Abyss Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laPamplemousse/pseuds/laPamplemousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen fic loosely (LOOSELY!!) based on the song "Is There Somewhere" by Halsey (Audio and lyrics <a href="http://cullenswaifu.tumblr.com/post/121283780557/is-there-somewhere-by-halsey-you-were-dancing-in">here</a>)</p><p>Warden Mahariel (the Hero of Ferelden) comes to Skyhold to help figure out what is happening to the Wardens, where she is re-introduced to Commander Cullen.</p><p>Mature rating for now, Explicit rating will apply in later chapters. </p><p>There are some things that I won't put in the main tags because of spoilers, so I will put appropriate tags in the notes before each chapter if there is something that triggers you. </p><p>***I'm also looking for a beta/someone to bounce ideas off of, if you're interested message me on tumblr: <a href="http://cullenswaifu.tumblr.com">cullenswaifu.tumblr.com</a> or leave a comment!***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warden Amalia Mahariel arrives at Skyhold after receiving a message from Alistair to join him there.

"Warden Mahariel, you remember our Commander, Cullen Rutherford?" Inquisitor Trevelyan asked by way of introduction. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, Commander," she replied, bowing her head politely.

She looked up and found herself lost into those familiar golden eyes. Those eyes had seen more than their fair share of pain, sadness, and loss, yet they still glowed with warmth as he gazed back at her. Ten years and a lifetime of hardships later, he was still as handsome as ever. _Even more so,_ she thought as she eyed the slight stubble on his cheeks and the scar above his lip. The subtle roughness his face had gained suited him well. She smiled, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring.

He took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to her skin. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady. And please, call me Cullen." The corner of his mouth lifted up in a small smile, causing her heart to flutter in her chest. She was pleased to note that he was studying her just as intently as she had him. A flush spread across her cheeks. She hoped he liked what he saw. 

The moment had gone on for an almost inappropriate amount of time, her hand still in his and their eyes taking each other in, when Trevelyan interrupted. "Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, could you show the Warden to her quarters, Commander? We've cleaned up the room next to your office, so she'll be staying there."

Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, obviously surprised. "I thought that Lady Mahariel would be sharing Ser Alistair's quarters?" He asked, trying to sound casual. 

Amalia’s flush deepened at the mention of her former lover. She kept her gaze fixed on the ground as she replied shyly, “No, that won’t be necessary.”

"Right," Trevelyan said, her voice rushed, "Well, I really have a lot of business to attend to at the moment. I hope your quarters are to your liking, Warden." She bowed her head towards Amalia, who returned the gesture.

"I'll see you later?" She asked Cullen, placing her hand affectionately on his bicep.

He nodded. He watched as she walked away, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck, then returned his gaze to Amalia.

She felt her face blaze with shame and a hint of jealousy. She stared at him, jaw slackened and eyes wide in a look of disappointment.

She quickly tried to regain her composure. "I’m quite exhausted. Could you show me to my quarters now Commander?" She asked, trying to sound casual, though disappointment had settled like a boulder in her stomach. She’d avoided using his name, and she wondered if he’d noticed as she saw a slight frown creep over his features.

“Of course,” he replied. “Please follow me.”

He led her from the Great Hall through the rotunda and out onto the battlements. The sun had set before she’d reached Skyhold, the sky above them lit only by the moon and stars. Amalia walked several feet behind him, her thoughts absorbing all of her attention. How long had Cullen and the Inquisitor been in a relationship? How serious was it? Did he love her? Had they _made_ love? She shook her head as if to flush the thoughts from her mind.

She was shaken out of her daze when she felt her boot catch on a loose stone. She yelped, unable to keep her balance as she fell towards the ground. She closed her eyes and held her hands out in front of her to brace for the fall. Rather than scraping against rough stone, she found her hands clutching smooth metal, her body frozen in mid-fall. She opened her eyes to find Cullen staring down at her, his amber eyes darkened with concern. He had turned at the sound of her cry and instantly breached the several feet between them, being there just in time to stop her fall.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice full of worry.

She nodded, trying to find her voice. She still clung to his gauntlets, his strong arms supporting her weight with ease.

“You should be more careful.” He chastised.

“Yes…I…thank you.” She mumbled. She pulled herself up so that she was standing again, but she didn’t let go of his arms. “How did you get to me so quickly?”

“I don’t know. I just heard you cry out and I reacted. I don’t know if I could do that again, though. It would be best if you stayed close to me, just in case.”

She sighed and nodded, reluctantly letting go of his arms.

He resumed his course along the battlements, albeit slower than before, no doubt making sure that Amalia kept up with him. She didn’t pay much attention to where they were going until they came to one of the towers along the battlements. He opened the door to reveal an office, sparsely decorated but comfortable. He sat her down in a large, cushioned chair in front of an impressive desk, then sat down across from her. She eyed the giant stacks of papers littering the desk—every stack perfectly straight without a single page out of line. The walls were covered with bookcases and behind her she could feel the warmth of a fire.

“These are my quarters.” He said matter-of-factly.

She looked at him, incredulous. “You sleep in your office?” she asked, trying not to laugh. “You don’t even have a bed!”

He smirked, then pointed somewhere up and behind her. She turned, following his finger to a tall ladder leading up to a loft high above them. She couldn’t see it from this angle, but she could only assume there was a bed up there.

“That’s convenient.” She mused, looking again the mountains of paperwork covering his desk. _He probably stays up working until he can barely keep his eyes open, then climbs upstairs for a few hours of sleep._

As if reading her thoughts, Cullen replied, “Yes, well. I often have trouble sleeping. I like to be able to work at all hours of the night without disturbing anyone.”

She smiled, admiring his work ethic. She silently wondered what kept the great Commander of the Inquisition up at night. She probably didn’t want to know.

“Would you care for a drink?” he offered, turning around to retrieve a bottle and two glasses from one of the bookcases.

“Yes, please.” She answered. He had already started pouring.

He offered her one of the glasses, then raised his to toast with her. “May your stay at Skyhold be a pleasant one.”

His glass clinked against hers and they both drank. The drink turned out to be some spiced mead, thick and sweet and warm as it glided down her throat. She found herself finishing the whole glass in just a few sips. She noticed the Commander had done the same.

Cullen drummed his fingers on his desk, looking absent-mindedly at the empty glasses in front of them. He cleared his throat, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Are you sure you would not rather share Ser Alistair’s quarters, my lady?” He asked nervously, his voice slightly higher than normal.

“Please, call me Amalia.” She blushed, trying to deflect his question. "Why would you think that, Commander?" She asked, feigning ignorance.

“I…” he started, stumbling over his words, “I just thought that…well the towers here on the battlements get quite cold at night, and he is staying in one of the rooms in the keep. I just thought…it would be more comfortable. Not to mention that you two…” he trailed off.

"Were you under the impression that Alistair and I were together?" She asked, her tone unreadable.

He nodded, embarrassed that she had called him out.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Commander, but that juicy love affair has long since ended. It turns out that it's hard to have a relationship with someone who can't go five minutes without making a joke." She replied playfully. The mead had already started going to her head and she began to feel emboldened by it.

She thought she caught a flicker of relief light the Commander's face, and she chuckled softly.

 "We're still good friends," she continued, "But I would sooner share my quarters with a family of great bears. That's what Alistair sounds like when he snores.”

They both laughed.

“Besides, he prefers to stay by the kitchens so he can sneak in and eat in the middle of the night, and I prefer to be in an area where I can take late night walks without attracting much attention." She shot a look at Cullen and he blushed.

“I understand the feeling.” He replied.

Seizing her chance, she asked quickly, “What about you and the Inquisitor?”

She searched his features, trying to discern the extent of their relationship by his reaction.

Cullen brought a hand up to the back of his neck and rubbed it nervously, averting his gaze from her. His complexion was now more akin to that of a tomato than a man. He chuckled anxiously, then replied hoarsely, his throat and mouth gone dry, "Lady Trevelyan and I...have been...pursuing a more romantic relationship, yes." 

She smiled at him, the disappointment in her stomach starting to ebb away. From his reaction, things couldn't be that serious between him and the Inquisitor. Either that, or he was embarrassed about admitting their involvement. Either way, it seemed to bode well for Amalia.

"Well, I'm exhausted. Could you show me to my quarters now, Cullen?"

 A slight smile spread across his face at her use of his name. "As you wish, Amalia."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually been working on this for like three weeks but I couldn't get the beginning the way I wanted it until now. Lots of rewriting and moving scenes around.
> 
> I know this fic is going to be a hard one for some people but please try to bear with me, and let me know what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> ***I'm also looking for a beta/someone to bounce ideas off of, if you're interested message me on tumblr: [notyourvhenan.tumblr.com](http://notyourvhenan.tumblr.com) or leave a comment!***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long for me to update. It's been challenging to find the right way to frame this story.

After showing Amalia to her quarters and making sure she was comfortable, Cullen went back to his office to wait for Trevelyan. They had planned to have a late dinner together once they both concluded their work. She usually liked to wrap up her day by checking in with her advisors and companions which could take a significant amount of time (especially if she went to talk to Varric). Not knowing how long she may take, he settled down at his desk to go through the rest of the week’s reports.

While he tried his best to focus on news of Red Templars in the Emprise and Venatori in the west, his thoughts kept drifting back to Amalia. It had been a pleasant surprise to see her again after so many years. She seemed happy to see him as well, from the way she had looked at him. He thought back to their earlier conversation and chuckled when he remembered what she had said about Alistair. Was it wrong for him to be relieved that they were no longer together?

When Cullen met them back at Kinloch Hold, they had seemed so in love. Of course, he was an emotional and psychological wreck at the time, but even then he noticed the adoring way in which Alistair looked at Amalia. He had wondered then if he would ever look at someone that way. Though she had mentioned their break-up jokingly, Cullen was sure it couldn’t have been such a simple matter. _I wonder who ended it?_ He thought. His instincts told him that she had. Alistair would have been mad to part with such an amazing woman willingly.

Cullen wondered if there had been someone else after Alistair. Amalia hadn’t been seen or heard from in quite some time, and she certainly would have caught the eye of a number of interested parties. Maybe there was someone out there waiting for her to come back to them. His throat suddenly went dry at the thought. _Surely she would have brought her companion with her if she had one,_ he thought, trying to console himself. _Although, Hawke had not brought Fenris with him…_ Cullen took a deep breath and re-focused his attention on the report in his hand.

He absorbed himself in his work, reading and re-reading reports before finally signing off on them. Slowly, the pile in front of him began to dwindle in size. He was halfway through a report from the soldiers Trevelyan rescued from the Fallow Mire when he was startled by loud yelling and cheering coming from the direction of the tavern. He sighed, putting down his quill and stretching in his chair. He noticed how short the candle on his desk had gotten and realized he had been working for a few hours at least. Trevelyan must have forgotten about their dinner plans.

 _Well,_ he thought, _I may as well eat something._ His stomach growled in agreement. He straightened the papers on his desk, added a few logs to the fire, blew out the candle on his desk and set off towards the kitchens. As he crossed the battlements he heard more jubilant yelling and loud laughter coming from the tavern. He shook his head, incredulous. No matter how much work had to be done or how dire their situation became, the residents of Skyhold (namely Trevelyan’s companions) always seemed able to act as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

Cullen snuck through Solas’ rotunda, not wanting to disturb the elf. He crossed the empty Great Hall and hurried down to the kitchens. All of the kitchen staff had gone to bed, so he dug around in the larder until he found some bread and cheese. He sliced several pieces of each and put them on a plate along with an apple and a chunk of smoked nug meat. He covered the plate with a cloth and was about to walk back to his quarters when the door opened quickly in front of him, almost hitting in square in the nose.

He was about lash out angrily at the inconsiderate intruder when he was met with a familiar face, looking just as shocked as Cullen felt.

“Ser Alistair,” he said in greeting, trying to hide the surprise in his voice.

The Warden blinked, looking first at Cullen’s face, only several inches from his own, then to the plate in the Commander’s hand. “Commander Cullen,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face, “I see that you and I had the same idea.”

Cullen wrinkled his brow in confusion, then remembered what Amalia had said earlier. Alistair liked to be near the kitchens so he could sneak in and eat late at night. “Yes, well,” Cullen answered as he started to walk past the Warden through the open door, “Time seems to have gotten away from me. I was just going to take a late dinner in my office.”

Alistair turned, as Cullen was now halfway through the door behind him. “Ah, well that’s understandable. I’m afraid I have no excuse—I had plenty to eat at supper, but alas I’m hungry again. I think it’s a Warden thing.” He chuckled, trying to explain away his odd habit.

“Yes, Amalia mentioned that you had a penchant for late night snacks,” Cullen said quickly as he continued to step away from the door and out into the corridor.

Alistair raised one eyebrow in amused puzzlement. “Oh, you spoke with Amalia about me did you?” He asked, his voice hard though he tried to sound light-hearted.

Cullen immediately wished he hadn’t spoken. He had no desire to continue this conversation.

“Yes, well, just briefly, in passing really, I had just asked about where she would prefer to stay and she mentioned that you two had different preferences,” he mumbled, his voice rushed. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Anyway I must be going, I have some work I need to finish.” He took several more steps back, away from the kitchen.

“Are you sure you can’t stay and have a small meal with me?” Alistair asked, his voice cold and smooth like a shard of ice. “I would love to hear more about your conversation with Amalia. Funny, I didn’t even know she had arrived yet. I suppose she was too _preoccupied_ to send notice.” He almost spat the last sentence.

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to disturb you, as she arrived only a few hours ago,” Cullen explained, his voice suddenly higher than usual, “And thank you for the invitation but I really must get back to work. Goodnight!” He turned and practically ran out of the corridor, back up to the Great Hall.

He proceeded back to his tower along the same route that he had come. Once on the battlements, he noticed two figures approaching the keep from the tavern. He stopped to have a closer look and realized it was Trevelyan and Sera. They were stumbling towards the main steps, laughing and holding on to each other for balance. Cullen let out an annoyed huff. _So this is why she missed dinner._ As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they were close enough for him to hear their conversation.

“I can’t believe I got to see Quizzy in her smalls!” Sera exclaimed in between laughs. “I mean, I didn’t think it would happen at a game of Wicked Grace! I always kinda thought it would happen in a DIFFERENT way! More private, I mean!”

The Inquisitor paused to face Sera, her expression full of mischief. “There’s still time for that!” She replied, giggling like a Chantry girl.

Cullen inhaled sharply, puffing out his chest. He watched the two inebriated women stumble and trip over the main steps until they finally reached the Great Hall, then disappeared inside. He waited several minutes to see if Sera would come back out and return to her quarters, but she didn’t. He sighed and finally retreated into his tower. He ate his meager meal quickly, though the desire for food had mostly left him. After one final look at the reports on his desk, he climbed the ladder to his loft and settled into bed for another restless night.


	3. Chapter 3

Amalia woke suddenly to the sound of yelling outside her quarters. It sounded like…Cullen? She rubbed her eyes with her palms, slipped on her clothes, and walked over to the door to listen.

“Do I even mean anything to you?” Cullen yelled, more of an accusation than a question. “I would have understood if you had been too tired or too busy with work to join me last night,” he continued, “but that’s not the case here. You were getting drunk and taking off your clothes with Sera and Maker knows who else watching, and for what? A stupid card game? What if some of our soldiers saw you? Or Maker forbid, one of Josephine’s visiting dignitaries?” His voice was like a roar now, “Do you know how that would have made you look? How it would make _me_ look?”

A woman’s voice—likely the Inquisitor—replied just as loudly and angrily, “Oh, now we’ve come to the root of the problem! We wouldn’t want the prestigious Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford of the Inquisition to have his reputation tarnished. I have news for you, _Commander_. No one is going to think badly of you because of what _I_ did when I was having a fun night of cards and drinking with _my_ friends.”

Amalia heard Cullen take a deep breath, and she cracked her door open to peek outside. Cullen was pacing around the small area between their towers, one hand tightly gripping the pommel of his sword, and the other anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. The Inquisitor was standing several feet away from him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Cullen stopped his pacing and walked over to the Inquisitor until he was close enough to look into her eyes.

“No,” Cullen whispered harshly, “They wouldn’t think badly of me for _that_. However, they will _certainly_ think me a fool or worse for wasting my time courting the girl who’s off dallying with half the Inquisition behind my back!” He turned away from her, lowering his head and running his hand through his golden curls.

The Inquisitor looked over at him, a mix of anger and hurt in her eyes. “Those are just rumors!” She yelled back, “You told me you didn’t believe them!”

Cullen turned on his heel and brought his face so close to the Inquisitor’s that their noses almost touched. He tapped a pointed finger roughly against her armor. “I didn’t believe them. Not until I _saw_ you going up to your quarters with Sera last night. I _heard_ what you said to her. I know she didn’t return to her quarters last night, so she must have spent the night with you. I can’t believe I was such a fool, unable to see what was right in front of my face!”

The Inquisitor shoved him away from her with both hands. “How _dare_ you accuse me of that, solely based on what you _think_ you heard and saw!” She threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “And besides that, I never committed myself to you! I told you I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship and you said you understood!”

“I understood that you wanted to take things slowly—I didn’t ‘understand’ that meant you were going to fool around with someone else!” Cullen spat in response.

“I can do whatever I damn well please, and it’s none of your business! I don’t belong to you!” the Inquisitor snapped before storming off.

Cullen sighed, then straightened his mantle and adjusted his armor. He took a deep breath and marched back into his office. Amalia watched until the door to his tower closed behind him.

“I’m glad we never had shouting matches like that.” Amalia heard from somewhere behind her.

She gasped, startled, and turned around to find Alistair sitting on the chaise in the opposite corner of the room.

“How long have you been here? What are you doing?” She asked, annoyed, as she closed the door behind her and walked towards her fellow Warden.

He smiled that unbelievably charming smile at her. “Well good morning to you too darling!” he quipped, feigning offense. “But in answer to your question: I was here when you woke up, you simply didn’t notice me. You were too concerned with other people’s drama to pay attention to poor old me.” He exaggerated a frown.

Amalia rolled her eyes. “Why were you in my room waiting for me to wake up?” Her annoyance was growing.

“I simply wanted to bring you some breakfast,” Alistair replied innocently, gesturing to her beside table. On it was a tray with plates of food, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.

Alistair got up from where he was sitting and walked over to Amalia. “I heard you arrived last night and I thought you must be starving.” Alistair continued, “You must have been too exhausted to eat last night if you didn’t even have the energy to send a messenger. I had to find out that you had arrived from the _Commander_.”

Amalia raised an eyebrow. “You spoke with Cullen about me? What did he say?” She asked, curious.

Alistair clicked his tongue. “I didn’t realize you and the good Commander were on a first-name basis. He and I had a brief conversation whilst raiding the kitchens late last night. He said that you had mentioned my preference to stay near the kitchens for that very reason.”

She looked down at her hands, too embarrassed to reply.

“He also mentioned that you seem to have fallen hopelessly in love with him,” Alistair added cheekily.

Amalia glared at him, then smacked his arm. “He did not say that!”

Alistair smiled devilishly at her. “Oh, but you _are_ hopelessly in love with him though?”

“No! Of course not! Stop teasing me!” Amalia cried, her face turning crimson. She hit him on the chest repeatedly, her half-hearted blows stopped in their tracks by the heavy metal of his armor.

Alistair grabbed each of her hands in his. “My darling, I was only having a bit of fun. I apologize for upsetting you.” He brought one of her hands up to his lips and kissed her fingers, then did the same with the other hand.

“Alistair…” Amalia started, but he brought a finger to her lips.

“Lia, I’ve missed you…” he said softly, his hand moving from her lips to gently stroke her cheek. “Maker’s breath, you get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Alistair, why do you always have to do this?” Amalia asked, looking up into his eyes.

“Do what?” He asked innocently.

She touched the hand that was still stroking her cheek. “ _This.”_ She replied, frustrated.

He opened his mouth to answer but she interrupted him. “I’ve told you so many times that it isn’t going to work between us, and you never listen. Every time I think I’ve finally moved on, there you are, acting like nothing has changed and keeping me right where you want me. I’m tired of it, Alistair. I love you, I will _always_ love you, but you’ve got to let me go.”

Alistair just stared at her, his expression crestfallen. Without saying a word, he turned and walked towards the door.

“Alistair, wait!” Amalia called, but he had already walked out, slamming the door behind him.

She flopped down onto the bed. It cut her up inside to hurt him like that, to watch him walk away. Even though it was what had to do be done, it killed her to do it. She wanted to run after him, to apologize and say it was all a mistake and kiss him, and he would wrap his arms around her and tell her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her.

It had never happened like this. This time she finally resisted, and this time he had finally broken down. As selfish as it was, she wanted him to keep fighting for her. Even as she smashed his too-pure heart into a thousand pieces, she wanted him to keep trying. It didn’t hurt as much when he kept coming back, kept giving her gifts and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She forgot the pain when she gave in, when his lips sent fire through her veins and his fingers wrote prayers of silent worship along her body.

Now the pain was everywhere, and she just wanted it to end. She tried to think of something, anything else, but all she could focus on were the raw edges of herself—wounds that had never fully healed being forced open all at once. Suddenly her cheeks were wet, her body shaking. She wasn’t sure when she had started crying. She found herself reaching for the bottle of wine on the bedside table, then dropping it onto the floor, empty. It shattered, and for a split second she felt better—she wasn’t the only thing that was broken, all sharp edges and pieces too small to matter. Everything went black long before she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I don't even know anymore. 
> 
> *Note: I changed Alistair's nickname for Amalia to "Lia". You'll see why later :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: vomit mention; emetophobia.

Cullen spent most of the day working, keeping busy to take his mind off of Trevelyan. He personally oversaw the day’s training sessions for the new recruits, signed off on all of the new requisitions that had been submitted, and completed all of his mission reports for the next War Council meeting. He hadn’t even stopped to eat, and by the early evening he had completed all of the work that he could. He sat down at his desk and poured himself a cup of mead. He stared into the cup, swirling the contents around as his mind drifted. Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t seen Amalia all day. He had told her to come to his quarters when she woke up so that he could give her a tour of Skyhold.

He called out to one of his officers he knew would be just outside his tower, who entered promptly. “I need to speak with Warden Mahariel. Have her come to my office as soon as possible.” He said sternly.

“Ser, no one has seen Warden Mahariel all day. Would you like me to try to locate her?” The officer responded cautiously. The Commander didn’t usually take bad news well.

“For the Maker’s sake, what do you mean she hasn’t been seen all day? Has anyone checked her quarters?” Cullen asked, his voice rising in frustration.

“No, Ser. We tried knocking but received no answer. We didn’t want to…we didn’t want to disturb her privacy, Ser. She is the Hero of Ferelden after all.” The officer explained, hoping to appease his commander.

“Maker’s breath! Did you not think that something could have happened to her?” Cullen asked angrily, jumping up from his desk and grabbing the officer by the collar. “Privacy be damned! It doesn’t matter _who_ they are, if someone is _MISSING_ and they aren’t answering their door, you investigate the situation! Honestly, have you no common sense?” He was yelling now.

The officer stared up at his superior with wide eyes. “M-m-my apologies Ser!” he stuttered. “It’s just that…”

“It’s just that what??” Cullen roared.

“It’s just that Perkins saw Ser Alistair entering the Hero’s quarters early this morning and no one has seen him since…so we thought he and Warden Mahariel might be…doing something…that requires privacy.” The officer answered quickly. Cullen let go of the man’s collar and gestured for him to leave. The officer ran faster than even he had thought possible.

Cullen cursed loudly, banging his fist on the desk. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but the thought of Alistair spending all day with Amalia in her quarters made his blood boil. He started pacing back and forth, debating about what he should do. Finally, he decided to check on Amalia himself, and if Alistair _was_ with her…well, one of them would not be leaving unscathed.

He marched the short distance between his tower and hers, and knocked loudly on the door. No response. “Amalia?” he called, knocking louder. “Amalia if you’re in there, say something, otherwise I’m coming in.” He waited for a response, but none came. He took a deep breath, raking his hand through his golden curls. “Amalia, I’m coming in.”

He opened the door, his hand near his eyes in case he needed to cover them quickly. He saw Amalia curled up and asleep on the bed. Moving his hand, he glanced around the room. He saw a tray of uneaten food and two cups on the bedside table, but no sign of Alistair. He breathed a sigh of relief, and wondered if Amalia had just been sleeping all day. As he stepped towards the bed to try and wake her, he felt something crunch under his boot. He looked down and saw shards of a broken bottle on the floor.

In an instant he was at Amalia’s bedside, standing over her and trying to wake her up. “Amalia!” he cried, shaking her as slowly as possible.

She whined softly but didn’t move.

“Amalia, wake up! What happened?” He shouted, his voice strained with panic.

He rolled her gently onto her back and she opened her eyes, blinking hazily. He lifted her cautiously, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her up so that she was propped up against the cushioned headboard. As he started to pull his arm out from under her she whined loudly in protest, so he sat down on the bed next to her. She immediately curled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder and placing her hand on his chest. He inhaled sharply, unsure of how he should react. The scent of jasmine and bergamot radiated from her, mixed with some sort of alcohol—strong alcohol. He looked down again at the broken bottle on the floor, and saw from the label it was a bottle of Grey Whiskey. This one was named “Riordan”.

“Maker’s breath Amalia! Did you drink this entire bottle of Grey Whiskey? What in the Void were you thinking?” He chastised her, his tone harsher than he meant it to be.

She whimpered quietly.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was much softer and calmer, “I’m just worried about you.” He sighed.

“Grey Whiskey?” Amalia asked, her words slurring slightly. “No wonder…” she mumbled.

“Honestly, did you think it was wine?” Cullen asked incredulously.

“Alistair…” Amalia replied, as if that were an explanation. “He brought it. I didn’t look at it.”

Cullen’s temper flared. “Did Alistair make you drink this?” he demanded. “What did he do to you?”

“No…”Amalia replied weakly, “What I did to him…” She clung tightly to Cullen, burying her head in between his arm and shoulder and sniffling.

“Amalia, you’re not making any sense. Here,” Cullen said as he grabbed a cup of water from the bedside table and offered it to her. Reluctantly, she sat up and took the cup from him. She drank the whole thing in three large gulps, handing the empty cup back to Cullen.

“I hurt Alistair. I broke his heart.” She explained more coherently, “I told him it was over between us once and for all. I hurt him…and it’s killing me.” She took a deep breath. “He just wanted us to be together. He loves me too much. He deserves so much better than me.” Her chest shook as she held back a sob.

Cullen frowned and made a small noise in his throat. He instinctively began rubbing circles along Amalia’s back, whispering reassuringly into her ear.

“You’re the one who deserves better.” Cullen cooed softly, “You’re an incredible, amazing woman. Any man you choose to be with would be the luckiest man in all of Thedas.”

Amalia raised her head to look into Cullen’s eyes. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” She pouted.

“I am not.” He replied assertively. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Amalia. Whatever happened between you and Alistair, he is lucky simply to have been with you for as long as he was.”

She sniffled. “Thank you…”

Amalia sat up suddenly, her face ashen and a layer of sweat coating her skin. She leaned over across Cullen and reached under the side of the bed. She grabbed the bedpan just in time to spill the contents of her stomach into it. Cullen gasped, then reached down to hold her hair behind her head and rub her back as she heaved. Her body continued to convulse for a few more minutes before she finally stilled. Cullen’s hand never stopped rubbing her back, soothing her nerves as she lied across his lap.

“Are you all right?” Cullen asked, his voice soothing and full of worry.

She nodded.

Cullen eased her up so that she was sitting next to him. “Have you eaten anything at all today?” He asked, looking with concern at the tray of uneaten food next to him.

She shook her head.

“What would you like to eat? I’ll go get you something from the kitchens. They should be cooking dinner right about now.”

“Are you going to eat? I’ll just eat some of whatever you’re having…I’m not sure how much food my stomach can tolerate.” She said quietly.

He smiled warmly at her. “Right. I’ll bring some salted bread and more water as well. Just stay here, okay? I’ll be back shortly.” He said as he got up off the bed.

He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing the long pointed tip. He kept his hand there for a moment, then cleared his throat awkwardly before walking out of the tower and onto the battlements.

On his way to the kitchens, Cullen passed by the corridor that led to Alistair’s quarters. He paused for a moment, contemplating, then stormed down the corridor. He planned to give Alistair a piece of his mind, and possibly his fist, for leaving Amalia in such a state. He reached Alistair’s door and banged on it loudly. When he received no response, he shouted Alistair’s name. Several times. After about three minutes of that, Cullen finally gave up, punching the door in his frustration.

A servant came running down the corridor to see what all the commotion was about. She stopped a few feet away when she noticed the dent of splintered wood in Alistair’s door and the angry Commander resting his arm against the doorframe.

“Commander?” she asked tentatively, “Are you alright?”

He turned to look at her and did his best to compose himself. “Yes, I’m quite alright, thank you. I just need to speak with Ser Alistair. Have you seen him?”

“Yes, Ser. But he’s not here.” She replied, stepping closer to him now that he appeared to have calmed down. “Ser Alistair went with Ser Hawke and Lady Trevelyan to the Western Approach. They left late this morning.”

Cullen ignored the urge to swear loudly. “Why wasn’t I informed of this sooner? They weren’t supposed to leave for two more days!” He did his best to keep his voice at a normal volume, though it was obviously tense.

“They didn’t tell anyone, Ser. It was supposed to be a secret. I only know because I saw them packing. Ser Alistair and Lady Trevelyan both seemed very eager to leave Skyhold as soon as possible.”

Cullen groaned, resting his head in the palm of his hand. The servant looked up at him nervously.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Cullen said politely, “You may take your leave.”

The servant curtsied, lowering her head quickly before running off.

Cullen hurried to the kitchens, ignoring the looks the staff gave him as he piled up a plate full of food and dry salted bread in one hand and carried an entire jug of water in his other.

When he returned to Amalia’s quarters she was standing in front of a small window, a faraway look on her face. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and she quickly turned, smiling and walking over to him. He placed the plate of food and the jug of water on the small table in the corner of the room.

“Thank you so much for bringing the bread and water.” She said softly, “I apologize that you had to see me like this. I’m sure you’d much rather enjoy your meal in the dining hall with everyone else.”

He shook his head. “This is where I want to be right now.”

A small smile spread across Amalia’s lips as she moved to sit down at the table. Before she could sit, Cullen was behind her, pulling the chair out for her and pushing it in once she was seated. He then took the seat across from her, his smile mirroring her own.

They ate and talked for what seemed like hours. Well, Cullen ate. Amalia nibbled at the salted bread and drank almost the entire jug of water herself. Once the fireplace had grown dim, Cullen got up to rekindle the flames. He walked back over to Amalia.

“I apologize, it has gotten quite late. Come on, let’s get you into bed.” Cullen said as he offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her up, then guided her over to the bed. She got in and he pulled the covers over her, tucking them in tightly around her small frame. He stood there, hovering over her for a moment, looking down into her eyes.

“I imagine you would like to retire to your quarters for the evening.” She said hesitantly, biting her lip.

“I’m not that tired,” he replied with a shy smile. “Besides, I need to stay to make sure you’re okay. I wouldn’t want a repeat of earlier.”

She blushed, embarrassed. Cullen walked over to the couch by the fireplace and began unstrapping his armor, laying it gently on the ground. Once he was down to his tunic and breeches, he lied down on the couch.

“Cullen…” Amalia said quietly.

He sat up quickly. “Yes? What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch…” she murmured.

He got up from the couch and joined her on the bed, lying next to her above the covers. Amalia climbed out from the covers and wrapped herself around him, her arm and one leg across his body and her head on his chest. Cullen cleared his throat nervously, then reached around her to cover her with the blanket. She whined and kicked the blanket off, mumbling about being too warm. Cullen wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, gently stroking her hair as they both drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is looooong and not at all where I thought this was going to go and it took me forever to write and I'm sorry the writing is just kind of blahhhh.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff!

Amalia leaned over the parapet to admire the view. “Wow,” she exhaled.

Cullen had brought her to the roof of Skyhold’s new mage’s tower, as it had just been completed. Over the past two weeks since she had arrived, Cullen had been spending almost all of his free time with Amalia. With Trevelyan, Hawke, and Alistair off in the Western Approach, there was more free time than usual (and, truth be told, Cullen _might_ have shifted some of his duties around to _make_ time). It started after that first night he had spent with her in her quarters. He gave her a tour of Skyhold one day, then had her observe the training sessions for the troops the next. He had wanted to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was doing okay. After those first few days, though, he found that he simply wanted to be around her.

Cullen turned, then walked over to stand next to Amalia. She was resting her arms on top of the parapet and he did the same, his gauntlet coming to rest against her bare arm. She shivered, both from the cold of the metal and from the unexpected contact. He noticed her reaction but kept his arm where it was. They stood there for a few minutes, neither of them speaking, just admiring the seemingly endless view of the Frostbacks. He turned his head to look at her as she took in the landscape below.

“Are you enjoying the view?” he asked sincerely.

Finally, she turned to look at him, her emerald green eyes catching his amber ones in a dazzling gaze. “It’s beautiful.” She replied, her voice full of wonder.

He smiled, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to memorize every inch of it, every dot of color in her irises, every curve of her lips, every intricate line of her vallaslin. His voice was thick and sweet like molasses. “It certainly is.”

She blushed as his eyes continued to soak her in. His piercing gaze made her feel like he could read every thought in her head. She shivered again.

“Are you cold, Amalia?” He asked, looking up and down at her clothing. She wore her usual sleeveless high dragon tunic with tights and drakeskin boots.

“No, I’m fine. I just caught a slight chill from the wind. My clan spent a lot of time in Ferelden. The cold doesn’t bother me.”

Cullen smiled, but his eyes were still narrowed with concern.

“Besides,” she continued, trying to sound nonchalant, “Wardens have naturally higher body temperatures than average people. Something about being tied to the blight.”

“If you insist.”

A light snow began to fall, snowflakes landing in their hair and on their clothes. Amalia smiled, reaching her hands out to try and catch some of them. She twirled around, tilting her head up to the sky and opening her mouth. Cullen watched, enchanted, as a snowflake fell on her tongue and melted instantly. The snow started falling harder. She closed her eyes and the snowflakes caught on her eyelashes. More of them met their end on her tongue, her hands, her collarbone.

He chuckled, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hadn’t felt in ages.

The sound of his laughter broke the spell of her reverie. She stopped her carefree twirling and turned to look at him, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Upon seeing his warm smile and the way his golden eyes lit up, she managed a small simper, and a nervous giggle bubbled up from her throat.

He stepped close to her, his hand reaching up to brush the snow from her chestnut hair. He watched as a single snowflake fell onto her full bottom lip. Without thinking, he reached out and wiped it away with a gloved thumb. They both froze, neither one knowing what to do or say.

His thumb was still on her lip and she could feel his warmth through the thick leather of his glove. She trembled. He finally removed his thumb and placed both hands on her shoulders.

“You’re shivering again.” His voice was that of annoyed concern.

Amalia nodded, letting him believe that it was just the cold causing her body to shake.

“Here, this will warm you up.”

He took off his mantle and wrapped it around her, his arms lingering around her shoulders for several moments. Then he took a few steps back from her, his gaze fixed on the ground and a slight blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Well, I’ve taken enough of your time for today. I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.” Cullen said, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Actually...” Amalia started, twisting her foot around nervously, “I was wondering if you had some free time?”

Cullen nodded, his hand still on his neck. “Of course.”

“I was thinking we could play chess. For real this time. If you want to, that is.” Amalia’s voice trailed off at the end of her sentence, her voice becoming low and mumbled. Cullen had been teaching her to play chess over the past week, though all of the games had basically been practice sessions.

“Oh? No going easy on you?” Cullen asked, a smirk forming on his lips.

She nodded.

“Alright then,” Cullen said playfully, “We’ll play with Fereldan rules.”

“Fereldan rules?” Amalia asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Cullen replied, “Best two out of three games wins, and the loser buys the drinks afterwards.”

Amalia grinned. "I'll accept those terms." 

"Right then. Shall we?" Cullen asked as he started down the ladder into the mage's tower.   
  
Amalia followed behind, down the ladder and the many stairs, then outside and down more stairs to the garden. They sat down across from each other at the chess table Cullen had placed there, drawing a few stares from those around them, as Amalia was still wearing Cullen's cloak. Cullen arranged the pieces, setting the white ones in front of Amalia so that she could go first.  

"I hope you like Chasind Sack Mead," Cullen teased, "Because that's what you'll be buying us when you lose." 

Amalia looked over at him through her lashes. "We'll see about that,  _Commander_. I've been holding back on you."

"As have I,  _Hero._ " Cullen grinned impishly.

Amalia pressed her lips into a straight line, all playfulness gone from her expression. "Please don't call me that." She said quietly, her voice firm and even.

Cullen blanched. He reached his hand out to gently rub Amalia's arm. "My deepest apologies, Amalia. I didn't mean to offend." He said seriously, his head bowed in deference. 

Amalia sighed. "No, it's alright. You didn't know. It's bad enough that the whole of Thedas knows me as the Hero of Ferelden, but I won't stand for those close to me to use that title. It's based on one thing that I did 10 years ago and truth be told,  _any_  Grey Warden would have done the same. The only difference is that _I_ managed to cheat death."

Cullen brought his hand down Amalia's arm to take her hand in his. "Amalia, I am so sorry. It was all meant in jest. I realize that was insensitive of me. I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories. If I had known, I wouldn't have said anything, I promise." His eyes were wide and he stared into hers earnestly. In the back of his mind he wondered what exactly she had meant by "those close to me," as she admittedly counted him among that group.

Amalia squeezed his hand gently. Her lips curved into a small smile. "It's quite alright Cullen. You didn't know, and I know you meant no harm. I just want the people that I care about to think of me as  _me_ —Amalia—and not 'the Hero.'" 

Cullen couldn't help the grin that spread across his face and lit up his eyes when she said that she cared about him. "I could never think of you as anything else but yourself. To me you are simply Amalia, whom I am about to thoroughly defeat at chess."

The laugh that bubbled up from her chest was lyrical. Cullen felt his heart falter at the sound. The songs of the birds, the conversations of various people talking around them, the sounds of swords clashing from the training ring below—all faded away. For a moment, all he could hear was the music of her laughter.   
  
She removed her hand from his and picked up a chess piece. Her eyes sparkled like sunlight on polished Serpentstone. "Well I apologize Cullen, but I am about to thoroughly disappoint you."

Cullen laughed loudly. "Let's get started then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter so far. I actually wrote most of it when I first started this fic but it didn't fit to have them all fluffy and cute at the beginning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of took a break from this because I was discouraged that no one was reading it, or if they did they weren't leaving any feedback so I figured it sucked. Anyway, I decided to just keep writing anyway so if you like the story let me know!

"Please, just one more game!" Amalia begged. 

Cullen smirked as he knocked her king over. "That makes four out of five for me. Even if we play one more game, you won't be able to catch up." 

Amalia huffed. "Ugh, I know! But at least I would feel better about myself." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted. She knew he had let her win that first game, and she had kept insisting on more games so that she could at least win one on her own. It hadn't worked out in her favor, however. 

"You do know that I just _barely_ won at least two of those games," Cullen commented, trying to make her feel better. 

She tried not to let her smile show through but she couldn't help it. "Couldn't we play just one more game Cullen? I promise it will be the last one!"

Cullen rose from his seat and started cleaning up the chess pieces. "It's gotten late enough as it is, Amalia." He responded, gesturing to the dark night sky above them. She hadn't even noticed that someone had come around and lit all of the torches in the garden.

"Besides," he continued, a smug grin forming on his lips, "I believe you owe me a drink. Or three."

She noticed the way his scar pulled his lip up unevenly on one side when he grinned like that, and her heart fluttered in her chest. 

"Let's start with one and see how the night goes," Amalia teased. She got up from her seat and blushed when she realized she was still wearing his coat. She started to take it off but he stopped her. 

"You're still going to need that, at least until we get to the tavern. It's not going to get any warmer tonight."

She nodded as he held his arm out to her and she looped hers through. Arm in arm they walked through the Great Hall and out to the tavern. 

The tavern was mostly empty when they arrived, and they both breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't that they would have minded the company--it was just that they didn't need any unnecessary rumors being spread about the Hero of Ferelden having drinks with the Commander. There were already rumors enough about their involvement, since they'd been spending so much time together. They were both fairly private people, and having their business spread around Skyhold—even if it was untrue—was very uncomfortable for them.

Amalia slid into a booth at the back of the tavern and Cullen walked over to the bar. He returned a few minutes later with two flagons and a smirk on his face. He placed the flagons on the table and sat down across from Amalia. 

She gave him a puzzled look. "I thought I was buying the drinks tonight?"

"Oh, you will, don't worry. But I wouldn't be able to call myself a gentleman if let a beautiful woman buy me drinks without first buying her one." He winked at her. "You like sparkling honeyed wine, right?"

She quirked her eyebrow at him, a look she had mastered thanks to Alistair. “How did you know that?”

Cullen chuckled. “That’s all you would drink at the celebration banquet after the Blight ended. And at Queen Anora’s coronation. And a few other banquets I can’t remember.”

Amalia felt her jaw drop open slightly. She remembered encountering Cullen at a few boring banquets held at the castle—he had been there to provide security, presumably as a break from his regular duties after what had happened at the Circle.

“You noticed what I was drinking?” she asked incredulously, “Not only that, but you remembered after all these years?”

“You left quite an impression, my lady.” Cullen said softly, looking down into his drink. “Truth be told, I was rather captivated by you.”

Amalia felt a blush spread over her cheeks. She took a sip of her wine, smiling at the sweet, familiar taste. Cullen was doing the same with his mead.

“And now?” she asked, pressing her lips between her teeth.

Cullen sputtered, almost spitting out his mead. Instead he gulped and some of the drink went into his airway. He coughed for a minute, then cleared his throat and looked at Amalia across the table. She wasn’t sure if his face was red from nearly choking or from embarrassment.

“You have always been captivating to me, Amalia. Even more so now that I’ve gotten to know you better.”

This time she was the one to almost choke on her drink. Cullen immediately jumped up from his seat and went over to her, patting her back gently and asking if she was okay. She nodded, her blush deepening both from his words and her embarrassment at doing something so stupid. He continued to rub soothing circles into her back even after she stopped coughing. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Thank you, Cullen. I’m fine now. I was just…surprised to hear you say that. And flattered.”

“Why would you be surprised? I’m sure I’m not the first person to say such a thing to you. And I’m absolutely certain I’m not the only one who’s thought that way about you.”

“It’s just that, well, most people only think that way about me because I’m the Hero of Ferelden. Many of them don’t even remember my real name, much less think of me as an actual person. But for you to say that you find me more captivating now that you’ve gotten to know me—it’s usually quite the opposite. I guess I’m just not used to people liking me for who I am.”

Cullen frowned.

“It’s even more surprising because you’re…well…you. You’re this brave, smart, talented man. Not to mention…incredibly handsome.” Amalia turned her face away from him and continued to sip her wine.

“Amalia, I’m…I’m flattered. Truly.” Cullen replied. He reached across the table to grab his flagon. “Look at me,” he requested.

Amalia turned her face back towards him to see his mug raised. “I believe we were here to celebrate my victory?” he asked cheekily.

Amalia nodded, raising her mug. “To the great Commander Cullen, and his hard-won victory at the chess table!” she toasted, tapping her mug against Cullen’s. They both drank.

Then Cullen added, “May he be thoroughly defeated during the next match!” and winked at her as they toasted again.

They spent the next few hours huddled next to each other in the booth, laughing and talking and drinking. As it turned out, Cullen bought all of their drinks. Normally she would have been annoyed, but Cullen was so sweet and chivalrous about it that she didn’t mind. He asked her permission each time before he ordered her a drink, and she felt oddly empowered by it. By the time they had finished their fifth drink, all of the serving girls had left and Cabot was giving them a dirty look.

“I think we had better leave before he throws us out,” Cullen laughed.

Amalia giggled in response. They both slid out of the booth and climbed the stairs to the exit on the third floor. They walked across the battlements together, laughing and pushing each other playfully. Amalia felt like she was floating and sinking all at the same time, the heat from the alcohol pulsing just under her skin. Cullen wrapped his arm around her and she stopped to look up at him. A few stray curls had fallen into his face and he was grinning that lop-sided grin of his. His eyes glowed with a warmth she had not seen before, like sunlight filtered through golden autumn leaves, and it took her breath away. 

He looked back at her, confused as to why she had stopped. His pupils widened as he gazed at her, the glowing warmth in his eyes replaced with an intense smoldering that made her knees weak and sent heat straight to her core. It was as if someone had poured hot wax inside of her, and it flowed down through her stomach, eventually pooling in the deepest part of her. She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips as he placed one hand on her waist, the other hand coming up to stroke her cheek. She reached up to brush a stray curl out of his face as she placed one hand on his shoulder.

They stood like that for a while, both barely noticing that they were getting closer and closer until their noses almost touched. They both inhaled sharply and Amalia closed her eyes, unable to focus on anything besides the quickened beating of her heart. She felt Cullen’s breath against her lips and she tilted her head slightly on instinct. A few seconds felt like an eternity as she waited, sensing Cullen’s lips just above her own. The moment ended in an instant when she heard footsteps approaching, and her eyes snapped open to see a soldier patrolling the battlements a few yards away from them. They both jumped apart from each other, blushing furiously and trying to act casual as the soldier passed them by, saluting to Cullen.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed nervously, and Amalia turned away, crossing her arms tightly across her chest as if to keep warm. She knew she should be glad that they hadn’t kissed—she didn’t need more complications in her life. However, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She wasn’t sure if it was simply the desire for an attractive man or if there was something more to the flame he ignited within her.

They were close to her quarters and they walked the rest of the way in silence. Cullen opened the door for her and she entered her tower, shivering from the cold. Cullen followed behind and quickly started a fire for her, then walked over to the opposite door. Amalia walked up to him and they stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I uh…suppose I should be getting back to my quarters.”

Amalia nodded.

“Right. Well, thank you for a lovely evening. Sleep well, Amalia. Goodnight.” Cullen said nervously.

“Goodnight Cullen.” Amalia replied softly.

Cullen pulled the door open and gave Amalia one last look before walking out. Amalia flopped down on her bed and took a deep breath, trying to quell the ache within her. She turned her head to the side and felt the soft fur of Cullen’s cloak—she had forgotten to give it back to him. She took another deep breath and inhaled his scent—elderflower and oakmoss, with a hint of mead and musk. She wrapped the cloak tightly around herself, continuing to breathe in Cullen’s scent as she drifted off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Lyrium Addiction/Withdrawal Mention

Amalia awoke to the feeling of fur tickling her nose, and in her sleepy haze she groaned, “Come on Dog, let’s get up.”

When she received no response she sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes and staring back down at the bed. She blushed when she realized she hadn’t been sleeping with Dog—he had been gone for a few years now—she had fallen asleep clutching Cullen’s cloak. She sighed, remembering her evening with Cullen and the spark that ignited between them—had she imagined it? She felt heat pool between her thighs as she thought about the way he looked at her, the fire in his eyes, how she had been so close to feeling his beautiful scarred lips against her own.

She shook her head to try and snap herself out of that train of thought as she stepped over to the washbasin and began to get ready for the day. Once she had bathed and dressed, after applying just a hint of rouge to her lips and kohl to her eyes, she headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She scanned all of the tables, hoping to find Cullen there, and when she didn’t see him she settled in the closest empty seat, sighing as she began to place some food on her plate.

“No one’s seen him all morning,” commented a familiar, lilting voice to Amalia’s left. She didn’t need to turn her head to know whom that lyrical Orlesian accent belonged to.

“Leliana,” Amalia said, as if answering a question. She turned to face the other woman. “How do you know whom I was looking for?” She asked, though she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer.

“My dear Amalia,” Leliana purred, “You do know that I am the Spymaster for the Inquisition, do you not?” She smiled as she brought a strawberry to her lips, parting them ever so slightly before wrapping them around the fruit. She took a small bite, chewed daintily, then swallowed before running her tongue along her lips to catch any leftover juice.

Amalia cleared her throat loudly, feeling her cheeks flush and her palms start to sweat. She had avoided Leliana as much as possible since arriving at Skyhold, since they had not parted on the best of terms in Denerim. Sure, Leliana had helped her and Alistair end the Blight, and she had stayed loyal to their cause until the end. But Leliana had been hurt when Amalia chose Alistair over her, and they had not spoken since. Leliana had obviously moved on—it seemed she spent a fair amount of time with the Inquisition’s ambassador, Lady Montilyet. However, she still held a bit of resentment towards Amalia for how things ended between them, especially since Leliana had warned her that her relationship with Alistair would not last. She had been right, of course.

Now Leliana saw fit to tease or tempt her—she wasn’t sure which—whenever possible. The fact that she knew about Amalia’s…whatever it was with Cullen made things that much worse. Leliana just giggled at her, a malicious twinkle in her eye. It was no wonder most of the Inquisition, even Cullen, was afraid of her. She had been much less mysterious and intimidating ten years ago, and Amalia had often wondered what had happened to her friend during their time apart.

Unwilling to tolerate any teasing about Cullen or any more seductive displays, Amalia decided it was best for her to leave. She reached for her goblet of juice and gulped it down, then piled up a plate with more food than she could ever eat and excused herself from the table, taking the plate of food with her. She heard Leliana chuckle and call after her as she walked away, “You’ll find him asleep in his quarters.” She hoped no one else had been paying attention as she rushed out of the Great Hall and back to her tower.

 Amalia checked her appearance in the mirror before picking up the plate of food and Cullen’s cloak and walking over to his tower. She knocked, but received no response.

“Cullen, it’s Amalia,” she called, and she thought she heard a small groan from inside. “I’m coming in!” She yelled before opening the door. She placed the plate of food on his desk and hung the cloak from the back of his chair.

“Cullen? Wake up! I brought you some breakfast!” she called up the ladder to his loft.

She heard Cullen roll over in his bed and groan. “I have a bad headache, please just let me sleep.” He replied.

Amalia poured a glass of water from the pitcher on his desk and started to climb the ladder up to the loft. “Awww, does the Commander have a hangover?” she teased, “You had better be decent, I’m coming up there!”

Cullen growled, “Don’t come up here! Just leave me alone, I’m not feeling well!”

Amalia frowned, stopping halfway up the ladder. “At least let me bring you a glass of water. It’ll help you feel better.” She said softly.

“Just. Go. AWAY!” Cullen roared, causing Amalia to drop the glass of water and jump from the ladder. The glass shattered on the floor and Amalia landed near it with a thud, almost slipping in the water as she ran out of Cullen’s office.

Immediately Cullen regretted his words and the tone he had taken—Amalia was just trying to help, she had no idea what he was really going through. He cursed himself for allowing his problems to affect Amalia, to hurt her. He sighed in frustration as he got out of bed and got dressed, hurrying down the ladder to go after Amalia. He saw the huge plate of food on his desk and his cloak hanging on his chair and he couldn’t help but smile at Amalia’s thoughtfulness. He quickly donned the cloak and bolted out the only open door to his office, wondering where Amalia might have gone.

He ran into Solas’ rotunda and found the elf studying a text that lay open on his desk. Without lifting his gaze, Solas pointed towards the door to the Great Hall, and Cullen mumbled his thanks. It worried him a little that Solas knew he was looking for Amalia without him even having to ask, but he pushed the thought from his mind as he stepped into the Great Hall. He looked up and down the room but saw no sign of Amalia.

“Lookin’ for someone, Curly?” Varric asked from his usual writing table, a manuscript in front of him and a quill in his hand.

Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Have you seen Warden Mahariel?” He asked bashfully.

Varric smirked, then lifted his quill to point at the door to the garden.

Cullen nodded his thanks before running across the hall and out the door. Varric just chuckled, shaking his head knowingly as he turned his attention back to the manuscript in front of him.

Cullen burst through the door to the garden and looked around anxiously. At first it seemed deserted except for Mother Giselle and that new herbalist mulling around, until he saw a hand come up from the grass in the corner of the garden. Amalia was lying there, picking handfuls of grass and letting them scatter in the wind as she stared up at the sky. Cullen walked cautiously over to her. He couldn’t tell if she was ignoring him or if she just hadn’t noticed him as he sat down on the ground next to her.

“Amalia…” he said quietly, “I’m so sorry.”

She rolled over onto her side, turning away from him. She didn’t want him to see the tears in her eyes. He had hurt her, more than she cared to admit, and it was easier to just pretend she was angry.

“Just leave me alone, I’m not feeling well!” she replied, mocking his words to her earlier.

Cullen sighed, “I deserve that. I deserve for you to ignore me and hate me and never speak to me again, but I’m begging you to please just hear me out first.”

He glanced over to where Mother Giselle was standing a few yards away. When he met her gaze she looked away quickly, pretending to busy herself with the rosebush in front of her.

“Preferably somewhere…more private.” He added.

Amalia let out an exasperated sigh as she blinked away her tears before sitting up and walking over to the chapel. Cullen followed, turning around once to send a glare in Mother Giselle’s direction. He didn’t dislike the Revered Mother, but he found her views to be a bit conservative despite her unconventional support for the Inquisition. She reminded him of the Revered Mothers he encountered during his Templar training, full of platitudes and metaphors with little concrete advice.

Cullen entered the chapel after Amalia and closed the door behind him. He walked over to where Amalia was standing, looking up at the statue of Andraste.

“You know, she was just a woman.” Amalia stated. “Whether she was really the Bride of the Maker or not, she was still a human woman. She breathed the same air we do, blood pumped through her veins, she had flaws and imperfections just like the rest of us.”

Cullen nodded, unsure of how to respond.

“Do you think she hated being called the Prophet, the Bride of the Maker? Do you think she ever hated all of the attention she received? I bet it got tiring, having everyone worship you without even knowing who you really are.” Amalia continued, her voice wistful.

“I suppose so,” Cullen replied apprehensively. “But I believe she understood her duty to the Maker and to this world, and accepted it with grace and humility.”

“Perhaps.” Amalia stated flatly. She turned around to face Cullen and her tone became softer, more unsure. “So what did you need to tell me?” She asked.

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, looking around the room nervously. Now that he had gotten her alone, he didn’t quite know how to say what he had to tell her.

“I…um…well…you see…” he started, stumbling over his words. Amalia tapped her toe impatiently.

“I don’t really have a headache from drinking last night.” He stated. Amalia raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I mean, I _do_ have a headache but it’s not from drinking. I’m not hungover.” He continued. “I get these severe headaches sometimes. From lyrium withdrawal.”

Amalia looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Lyrium withdrawal?” she asked quietly.

Cullen nodded. “After everything that’s happened to me, at Ferelden’s Circle and in Kirkwall, I wanted to separate myself as much as possible from the Templar Order. As soon as I joined the Inquisition several months ago, I stopped taking lyrium.” He explained.

Amalia’s expression darkened with concern. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Cullen placed his hand on Amalia’s shoulder, pulling her closer to him. “Yes, it is. The withdrawals do not just cause headaches. I have…nightmares. Terrible nightmares that seem incredibly real. That’s why I’m often up working late at night. And the withdrawals make me quite ill some days.” He frowned, his voice becoming almost a whisper. “Some Templars go mad and even die because of the withdrawals. I’ve known some of them.”

Anger flared across Amalia’s features. “Why would you go through with this if you could go mad or die?” Her voice was raised, though not quite a yell. “There are people who care about you, who _need_ you. What would the Inquisitor do without you? What would the _Inquisition_ do without you?” Her voice got very small, “What would I do without you?”

Cullen made a noise in his throat, halfway between a whine and a groan, as he buried his face in his hands. “I will not be tied to the lyrium leash that the Chantry holds. No matter what happens to me, I could not live with myself if I started taking lyrium again, if I bound myself to the Chantry again just to avoid the discomfort of withdrawal. Who knows, it may get easier after a while, and perhaps I will inspire others to do the same.”

Amalia nodded, unable to argue against his reasoning. She was scared and worried, but she realized this was something he had to do for himself, for his own peace of mind.

“I’ve asked Cassandra to watch me. She’ll know better than anyone if the withdrawals become too much, if I begin to pose a risk to anyone or become unfit to lead.”

Amalia reached out, pulling his hands away from his face and holding them tightly. “Cassandra? What about the Inquisitor?” she asked.

Cullen shook his head. “Lady Trevelyan…doesn’t know. I haven’t told her because I don’t want her to worry. Plus I…I don’t want to be a disappointment to her. I don’t want her to lose her faith in me.” He said sadly.

Amalia squeezed his hands in hers. “Cullen, no one would be disappointed in you for what you’re doing. It’s incredibly brave and noble and anyone in their right mind would be so proud of you for doing this. I’m proud of you.”

Cullen looked into her eyes and saw the hope in them, the faith and the pride she had in him reflected in those deep green pools of light. Something else shone there too…affection? He smiled reluctantly. “Really?” he asked.

Amalia closed her eyes and stood on her toes, leaning up towards Cullen’s face. Before he could react her lips were on his, soft and gentle and warm, and he found himself closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around her neck, holding her to him. Their lips moved slowly against each other, cautious, testing. Amalia placed one hand on his shoulder, the other carding through his blonde curls. Cullen deepened the kiss, his hand on the back of Amalia’s neck pulling her closer to him as he pressed against her mouth hungrily, his teeth gently pulling at her plump bottom lip. His tongue slipped through his teeth and Amalia slowly parted her lips to allow him into her mouth. _Maker, she tastes like freshly baked bread and sweet cream butter_. He thought. Amalia grazed her teeth along his tongue lightly and he moaned into her mouth, all sense lost to him as he crushed his lips against hers desperately. Amalia sighed before pulling away slowly, her breathing heavy.

Cullen just gazed at her, her lips swollen and red from his kiss as her chest rose and fell, her breathing labored from their moment of passion. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue and lips were weak from the heat of Amalia’s lips.

“Uhh…M-M-Mali…” he finally stuttered, unable to say her name correctly.

Amalia giggled lightly. “Mali huh? I like the sound of that. Easier to say too, I imagine.” She grinned and winked at him.

Cullen flushed a deep red. “You l-like it?” he asked tentatively. She nodded. “Well, okay then. Mali it is.” He smiled, the corners of it reaching up to his eyes and making them sparkle like gold. He pulled Amalia close to him so that her head was against his chest, holding her tight and stroking the back of her hair. They stood like that for a while, just listening to each other’s breathing as they held each other.

After a while they were shaken from their peaceful embrace by a knock on the chapel door. “Commander?” a male voice asked, and Cullen recognized it as Jim. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Jim?” he asked through the door. “What is it?”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan has returned from her trip to the Western Approach. She would like to see you immediately.” Jim called through the door.

Cullen groaned. This wasn’t going to be good. “Fine, tell her I’ll meet her in my office shortly.”

“Yes sir!” Jim said quickly before they heard him run off.

Cullen tilted his head down and pressed his forehead against Amalia’s. “I have to go…” he said dejectedly.

Amalia nodded her understanding and kissed him softly. “It’s okay. I’ll be waiting for you in my quarters when your business is taken care of.”

“I shan’t keep you waiting for long,” Cullen grinned, then kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll be counting the minutes.” Amalia said playfully as she watched him walk to the door.

“I’ll see you soon, Mali.” Cullen said as he opened the door and walked out.

Amalia sat down on the floor of the chapel, unable to stand as her knees had gone weak. She smiled, her heart soaring in her chest. She knew this would make her life more complicated than it already was, and she chided herself for getting carried away, but she couldn’t help it. Cullen sparked something inside of her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She only hoped that this time, it would last.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. I've been having some really painful (but not dangerous) health issues for the past month or so, so writing hasn't been a priority.

Cullen didn't know what to expect when he opened the door to his office and found Trevelyan pacing in front of his desk. As soon as she caught sight of him she ran over and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"Cullen!" she cried. "I'm so sorry for how I left things with you. I care about you, and I want to make this work between us."

Cullen almost fell over from the force of her hug and the unexpectedness of her words. He thought when she had left so suddenly for the Western Approach that things between them were over. He was at a loss for words. He freed himself from her arms and placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away slightly so that he could look at her. And breathe.   
  
"I thought...What made you decide this?" He asked.  
  
"I thought about you--and us--the whole time I was gone and I realized that you're right. I was stupid and I shouldn't have done that. You're the one I want to be with and I should have acted like it." She replied. She looked at him with eyes as big as saucers. "Do you think you can forgive me?" 

 _Maker's breath._  Cullen groaned inwardly, a small sheen of sweat starting to form on his brow.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Cullen asked, his hand reaching up rub the back of his neck. "I don't want you to do this if it's not going to make you happy."  
"Of course this will make me happy. Is this not what you want? Or can you not forgive me?" Trevelyan’s voice wavered. She stuck her lips out in a pout, a layer of tears forming on the surface of her eyes.

Cullen felt something inside him crack as he saw the emotion in her face. He could easily forgive her; she was young and inexperienced in the nuances of adult relationships. But he didn't know if this was what he wanted anymore. He couldn't think, his mind clouded with thoughts of Amalia. The way her lips melted seamlessly against his, the way her body felt warm and soft in his arms, the way she made him laugh.

"I'll take your silence as a no," the Inquisitor said flatly, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. A single tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. 

Before he knew what he was doing Cullen was reaching out to her, hugging her against him. "No! Of course not!" He said quickly, trying to prevent her from shedding any more tears on his account. "I forgive you." He said softly. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, I overreacted."

Trevelyan's face lit up at his words. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

Confusion clouded Cullen's face as he struggled to process what just happened. "I...uh...wh..." he stuttered, unable to translate his thoughts into words. 

The Inquisitor grinned. "I'm so glad we worked things out! I promise I'll be better from here on out. We can still take things slow but I'm committed to you and only you." She said. 

Cullen just stared at her, speechless.

"Okay, now that that's settled, let's meet in the war room in 30 minutes. I need to debrief everyone on the situation with the Wardens." She said before turning to walk out of Cullen's office. She blew him a kiss before closing the door behind her.  

Cullen's jaw dropped. Had she misunderstood his forgiveness for a renewal of their relationship? He cursed himself for not speaking more explicitly, for not immediately correcting Trevelyan's assumption. What was he going to do? Of course had had feelings for the Inquisitor, but they had been muted when she left after their fight. He knew he felt something for Amalia, that much was obvious, but he wasn't yet sure what those feelings meant or how serious they were.

He and Amalia had never discussed a relationship—there had been no need to until today. For all he knew, she just wanted to have a fling with him while she was at Skyhold, then go back into hiding once the Warden issue was taken care of. Maybe she didn't feel anything towards him but sexual attraction. His gut told him that he was wrong, but he didn't listen. Whatever he and Amalia had, she knew he was pursuing a relationship with the Inquisitor, and as far as she was aware, that relationship never officially ended. Hopefully she would understand.

He couldn't abandon Trevelyan. She was the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor, and she deserved all the happiness she could get. If he was the one who could give that to her, then he was obligated to do so. He had to stay loyal to her, even if she hadn't been completely loyal to him. It was his duty. He had spent a long time pursuing this relationship before Amalia showed up. He couldn’t go back on it now, no matter how she made him feel.

Cullen sighed, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He needed time to think, time to sort things out, time he didn’t have. His head was still reeling from his conversation with Trevelyan, not to mention his encounter with Amalia just a few minutes earlier. He couldn't face Amalia now, not when he had to be at a war council meeting in 30 minutes.  _Maker, the war council meeting..._  If the Inquisitor needed to debrief everyone on the Warden situation, of course Amalia would be there. She would probably try to speak with him after the meeting...unless Trevelyan got to him first. 

He glanced over at his desk and noticed the pile of reports he was supposed to prepare for the next war council meeting. He had been putting them off in favor of spending time with Amalia, but now that the Inquisitor had returned he would be expected to give reports on the troop movements and other missions he had been in charge of. The missions were all completed, but the paperwork lingered on his desk, something that had never happened before Amalia came to Skyhold. He turned all his focus to his work and began quickly scribbling away at the reports.

Cullen was so focused on his work that he didn’t even notice the time slip by. Before he knew it a messenger was standing in front of his desk informing him that he was 10 minutes late to the war council meeting. He rushed over to the war room, breathing heavily with sweat on his brow as he entered. Leliana and Josephine were in their usual places at the war table, as was the Inquisitor, with Amalia, Hawke, and Alistair standing on either side of her. Cullen walked over to his usual spot as the four women, Hawke, and Alistair just stared at him, and he smiled, apologizing for his lateness.

Amalia looked at him with concern. “Is everything all right Commander?” She asked.

He knew she was wondering why he hadn’t come to see her after his meeting with Trevelyan. He drummed his fingers against the war table.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” He said. “Shall we begin?”

Trevelyan, Hawke, and Alistair proceeded to relay what they had discovered in the Western Approach. Cullen’s jaw clenched when he heard that the Wardens had willingly used blood magic to summon and bind demons in an insane attempt to prevent the Blight. A knot formed in his chest as he watched Amalia’s face contort in fear. He wished he could wrap her in his arms and stroke her hair while whispering that everything was going to be okay. At this point, though, he wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again.

“We have to march on Adamant Fortress.” The Inquisitor said.

“We should leave immediately.” Leliana said.

Cullen rested his hands on the war table, leaning over it to examine the pieces representing their forces in the area. He sighed. “We’ll need time to prepare.” He said.

“I can rally our allies in the area, ask them to send support.” Josephine said.

Cullen shook his head. “We can’t wait that long. We’ll have to make due with our own forces. Leliana, send your scouts ahead to see what information they can gather. I’ll send notices to all our troops in the area. Josephine, focus on securing new weapons and armor for our soldiers—we don’t know what to expect and we should be as prepared as we can be.”

Amalia bit her lip as she stared at him. She loved when the commander showed his…commanding side. He caught her gaze and blushed, looking away quickly.

“We need to come up with a strategy.” Cullen said.

The next few hours were spent coming up with a plan of attack. When their strategy was as finalized as they could make it and the various orders had been sent out, Trevelyan dismissed the council. Not wanting to give Amalia or Trevelyan a chance to catch up with him, Cullen bolted for the door as soon as the meeting ended. Unfortunately the two women were faster and they approached him simultaneously, blocking his exit.

“Cullen!” both women said in unison, sharing a look before staring back at the Commander.

“Would you care to join me for a late lunch?” Trevelyan asked.

Cullen opened his mouth to reply but Amalia spoke first. “Actually, I was hoping the Commander would join me for lunch today. I would like to continue our earlier conversation.” She said.

Amalia tried to keep her expression neutral, but a small simper lifted one corner of her mouth. Her pupils widened at the thought of their kiss that morning and she felt the tips of her ears grow hot as a different sort of heat pulsed between her legs. Cullen gulped when he realized the implication of her words, coughing as he almost choked on his own saliva.

Trevelyan looked at Amalia and gave her a close-mouthed smile. “I’m sure you can speak with the Commander later,” she said, “I’ve been gone over a fortnight and I’ve missed him _dearly_. You understand, don’t you?” She asked. She placed a hand on Amalia’s arm. “Matters of the heart simply can’t wait.”

Amalia’s eyes widened, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks as her mouth suddenly went dry. She stared at Trevelyan for a moment before turning to look at Cullen, her lips falling open in wordless confusion.

“Of course. If you’ll excuse me.” Amalia said. She didn’t look at either of them as she spoke. She turned quickly and excited the room, slamming the door behind her. Josephine stared at her as she ran through the ambassador’s office, hot tears falling down her cheeks. She slammed Josephine’s door as well, pressing her back against the hard wood and sliding down to the floor in the small antechamber outside the Antivan’s office.

Cullen gripped the pommel of his sword, pressing the metal so deeply into his palm his fingers began to go numb. He wanted to run after Amalia, if to do nothing else than to explain to her what had happened between him and Trevelyan that morning. Maker, she must hate him. For all she knew he had just been using her as a temporary distraction while the Inquisitor was away. Is that really what he had been doing? He felt guilt creep into his chest at the thought. Whether it was true or not, he had made a commitment to Trevelyan and it wouldn’t be fair to lead Amalia on. His head throbbed, his earlier headache returning with renewed force.

“Cullen?” Trevelyan asked, staring at him with concern. “Are you ready to go have lunch?”

Cullen nodded, the pain in his head magnified by the motion, and he followed her out of the war room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to know what you guys think of the story so far. I know a few of you commented on each of the earlier chapters and I would really love to know how you feel about the way the story is progressing. Even if you don't like it or you have a suggestion, I would really love to hear your opinions!


	9. Chapter 9

Amalia let out a strangled sob. She pounded her fist into the ground, cursing herself for being so stupid. _That bitch has Cullen wrapped around her little finger._ She thought. _Can’t he see that she’s just using him?_

She heard voices from Josephine’s office and realized it was Cullen and Trevelyan. She got up quickly, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. She was about to step out into the Great Hall when she caught a glimpse of her hand in the dim torchlight—streaked with black. Shit. The kohl on my eyes. Her tears had caused the makeup to run and she just smeared the kohl all over her eyes when she wiped them with her hand. I can’t walk out there looking like this. She heard footsteps approaching behind her and looked around frantically, finally noticing a stone staircase to her left. She descended the stairs quickly and heard Cullen and Trevelyan walk through the antechamber above just as she reached the last step.

She sighed in relief when she heard the door to the Great Hall close. Taking a few steps into the room, she realized she was in some sort of basement vault. There was a door close to her and she opened it, sneezing as a cloud of dust flew into her face. She waited a moment for the dust to settle and the sneezing to subside before she opened her eyes and stepped into the room. It was dark, narrow, and lined with cobweb-covered bookshelves. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand as her steps stirred up more dust. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books, pulling off cobwebs as she went. She was not familiar with any of the titles, many of them in languages she couldn’t identify.

She was so enthralled by the texts beneath her fingertips that she almost didn’t see the giant book propped up on a desk in the center of the room. She walked towards the tome and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a figure sitting at the desk behind it.  

“Hello!” Hawke said, waving at Amalia over the massive text in front of him.

“Hawke! What are you doing here? What is this place?” Amalia asked.

Hawke smiled at her as he rose from his seat. “I come here to unwind and be alone. It reminds me of my old library back in Kirkwall. Well, minus the dust and spiders. I found this place about a week after arriving here. I guess this used to be someone’s personal library or study. I haven’t heard anyone else talk about it, so I’m not sure anyone else knows about it. It was obviously here long before the Inquisition was.”

Hawke walked over to where Amalia was standing. His smile turned into a concerned frown as he stood in front of her, taking in her ruined makeup and puffy, red eyes. “Amalia, what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

Amalia sighed. She didn’t really know Hawke that well, as she had only met him recently through Alistair. They never talked about anything beyond whatever mission one of them was working on at the time, unless you counted Hawke’s snarky humor and sarcasm, which Amalia didn’t. She knew the man was fairly close with Alistair and she didn’t want to risk anything she said getting back to him.

Hawke sensed her apprehension and guessed the reason for it. “Amalia, I promise I won’t tell anyone anything that we talk about. I know what it’s like to have the wrong people know all about your secrets. I guess that’s the price I pay for being best friends with an illustrious author. Turns out that having a captivating and popular story is more important that your friends’ privacy. Oh well.” He chuckled, putting Amalia at ease.

Hawke led her over to the desk and had her sit down in the large, dusty chair, while he leaned back against the desk, his feet crossed in front of him. “So tell me. Who is causing our beautiful Warden to cry and ruin her makeup?” He asked.

Amalia couldn’t help but smile, though she was still sniffling a bit. “Well…it’s Commander Cullen…” She started. She avoided meeting Hawke’s gaze.

“I assumed as much,” Hawke stated. “I could tell something was up by the way you two were acting in the war room. You were making puppy dog eyes at him and he avoided looking in your direction at all costs.”

Amalia frowned, narrowing her eyes at him. “I was not making puppy dog eyes. But…yes. I thought he was broken up with Trevelyan after she left for the Western Approach, but she returned today and it seems like everything is fine between them.” She sniffled again.

Hawke pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

“That can’t be all of it.” Hawke said.

“Well…we kissed this morning. Not just a small kiss either, an intense, heated kiss. We’ve been growing close since I arrived at Skyhold and there’s just this undeniable chemistry between us. He makes me feel alive. No matter what we’re doing, even if it’s just playing chess in the garden, he makes me feel so content and just, more myself.” She bit her lip, a blush spreading over her cheeks and up to her ears.

Hawke gave her a sympathetic look. “Oh honey,” he said, taking one of her hands into both of his, “Commander Curly probably has no idea what he wants. Honestly, you can do so much better than him. You know what he did in Kirkwall, right?” Hawke asked.

Amalia looked down at her hand in Hawke’s. She spoke quietly. “Yes, I know. But you don’t know what he went through at Kinloch Hold. I was there, I saw it firsthand. Anyone would come out of a situation like that with more than a little psychological damage.”

Hawke opened his mouth to speak, but Amalia stopped him. “His superiors should have seen the effect that that experience had on him and relieved him from duty. And being stationed with someone like Knight-Commander Meredith as his boss when he was in such a fragile state of mind only exacerbated his distrust of magic.”

She looked Hawke in the eyes, her voice rising in volume as she continued. “The Templar Order failed Cullen when he needed them the most, and I’m sure he’s not the only one. The fact that he was able to recognize the error of his prejudices and begin to overcome them in such a short time since leaving the Order is a testament to the strength of his character and the pureness of his heart.”

Hawke just stared at her, flabbergasted. It wasn’t like him to be left speechless, but here he was, without a single cohesive response, not even a sarcastic comeback.

Amalia blushed even more fiercely. She was just as shocked at her outburst as Hawke was.

“I should get going.” She said quickly, getting up from her seat.

“Oh no, you’re not getting away that easily, not after that little outburst. It’s obvious you care for the Commander a great deal. But what happened between you and Alistair?” Hawke asked.

“You mean he didn’t tell you?” She asked.

Hawke shook his head.

Amalia sighed as she sat back down. “Fine. Where shall I start?”

\------

An hour later Amalia found herself in Hawke’s quarters, sharing lunch with him and listening to him tell stories of his antics in Kirkwall. She noted that he avoided any mention of Cullen in his telling and she silently thanked him.

“So Isabela comes running into my estate right in the middle of this fancy party yelling ‘Hide me!’ I just react without thinking and shove Isabela underneath Lady Clementine’s giant, poofy dress!” Hawke said. He laughs, a warm, hearty sound from deep in his belly.

“What happened after that?” Amalia asked. She chewed her lunch absent-mindedly, hanging on Hawke’s every word.

“Lady Clementine was furious at first. She kept trying to kick Isabela out, but it was difficult for her to move with that voluminous skirt and huge bustle. After a minute she stopped struggling though. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her face turned red, and she started making small whimpering noises.” Hawke replied.

“No way.” Amalia said, incredulous.

Hawke nodded. “Apparently our little pirate was earning her keep as the Lady’s stowaway. Ten minutes later some thugs ran into the estate looking for Isabela. In between sighs, Lady Clementine assured them that no one had seen Isabela and that they were interrupting a most delightful party. As soon as they left, Lady Clementine started shaking uncontrollably, and her knees gave out. She screamed, ‘Yes, yes! Oh, yes!’ and collapsed into a nearby chair. Isabela appeared from beneath the Lady’s skirt a minute later, licking her lips and wiping her mouth. I hear the two of them became very close after that.”

Amalia just stared at Hawke. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” She said.

Hawke grinned, holding up his hand as if taking an oath. “It’s the truth, I swear!”

Amalia gave him a smirk before taking a sip of juice. “Thank you for taking the time to listen to me and cheer me up.” She said quietly. “I really appreciate it.”

Hawke was about to take a bite of of his shepherd’s pie, but he immediately put his fork down. “You don’t need to thank me for anything dear Amalia.” He said. He gave her a serious look. “You deserve to be happy. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this stuff with Cullen. He’s not worth the heartache.”

Amalia lifted her lips in a false smile, though her eyes gave her away.

“And this business with Alistair,” Hawke continued, “I don’t think you should have ended things with him, even after the circumstances that you mentioned to me. He’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions, he knows what he wants and what he deserves and sweetheart, he wants to be with you. All that other stuff doesn’t matter.”

Amalia pushed her plate away from her and resting her elbows on the table, holding her head in her hands, fingers laced through her hair. She tried to hold back the tears but they were coming too fast, her lips quivering and a sob rising in her throat. Hawke jumped out of his seat, sending his plate crashing to the floor as he ran to Amalia. He kneeled in front of her, wrapping her in his arms and turning her around so her face was pressed against his chest. He stroked her hair as she let it all go, sobs wracking her body and tears staining the front of Hawke’s tunic.

“Shhhhhh, there, there,” He cooed, “It’s okay sweetie. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You just cry it all out, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have used this chapter as a platform for defending Cullen. Oops.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly cannot summarize this.

Cullen couldn’t help but stare when he heard Amalia’s bubbly laughter coming from the other end of the table, where she sat with Hawke and Alistair on either side of her. It had been a few days since their kiss and the subsequent fiasco with Trevelyan, and Amalia had been spending all her time with Hawke and Alistair. Cullen had failed to apologize to her--all of his attempts to apologize to her had been thwarted by her two companions. Amalia was never seen without one of them at her side, and every time Cullen approached her they would glare at him and guide her away in the opposite direction. He wondered just how much she had told Hawke and Alistair about their “relationship”.

“Come on, just close your eyes, I promise I’m not trying to trick you!” Alistair said, trying--and failing--to keep a straight face.

Amalia giggled and her eyes fluttered closed. Cullen felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight.  

Alistair turned around to a small table behind him and grabbed a pot full of a thick, creamy liquid, placing it on a stand in between himself and Amalia. He turned to Hawke, who cast a small flame spell underneath the pot. Soon, the liquid began to thin out as it boiled, large bubbles floating to the surface.

“What’s that smell?” Amalia asked, turning her head and sniffing in the direction of the pot.

“Hey, no peeking!” Alistair said. He reached behind himself again and brought back a plate full of small chunks of bread, along with a few metal skewers. “Okay, now open your mouth.” Alistair instructed.

Amalia pursed her lips, unsure whether she should comply with his request. After a moment she obeyed, opening her mouth so that her lips formed a perfect “o”. Cullen inhaled sharply through his nose, unconsciously puffing out his chest and clenching his fists. He watched as Alistair took a piece of bread and placed it on a skewer, then dipped the bread in the hot liquid. He let the dipped bread cool for a moment, blowing on it lightly, before bringing it over to Amalia and placing the morsel between her lips. She closed her mouth slowly, letting the bread rest on her tongue as Alistair slowly pulled the skewer away. As she chewed, her expression changed from surprise to joy, and her eyes flew open when she finally swallowed.

“Alistair, what _was_ that?” Amalia asked, her eyes darting from the pot in front of her to the plate of bread, then to Alistair’s face.

He was grinning from ear to ear, pleased with himself that he could elicit such a response from his former lover. “It’s called fondue.” Alistair said. “It’s all the rage in Orlais right now, or so I’m told. It’s melted cheese with a little wine and seasonings.”

Amalia stared at him. “Of _course_ it’s cheese. How could it be anything other than cheese with you?”

“But it’s good, right?” Alistair asked anxiously.

“Yes, Alistair. It’s very good.” Amalia replied.

“Great! Have some more!” Alistair said, skewering another piece of bread and dipping it into the cheese. He blew on it, licking a small amount of the cheese off as he did so. He brought the fondue to Amalia’s waiting mouth, purposefully smearing some of the cheese on her lips. She laughed, licking the cheese from her pouty pink mouth in a sensuously slow circle. Cullen’s eyes widened as he watched, his heart fluttering in his chest as a jolt of desire shot through him.

“You missed a spot.” Alistair said, grinning mischievously. He leaned over and gently ran his thumb along Amalia’s lips, following the same path her tongue had just taken. Cullen couldn’t hear the small sigh that escaped her mouth, but he saw the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened at Alistair’s touch. He watched as Alistair brought his thumb to his own lips, licking away the small bit of cheese he had wiped from Amalia’s mouth, and Cullen heard his own jaw crack from being clenched for so long.   

He couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He wasn’t sure if Amalia was truly getting along with Alistair again, or if she was just acting this way to make him jealous. Cullen exhaled in a huff, drawing the attention of Cassandra who was sitting next to him. “You seem a bit tense. Is everything alright?” She asked.

Cullen sighed, trying to train his features into a look of calm indifference. “Everything is fine. I was just thinking about the new training exercises I will implement with the troops.”

Cassandra just blinked at him. “Of course.” She replied, unable to hide the disbelief in her tone. “Where is the Inquisitor today?” She asked.

“Lady Trevelyan is assisting a few of her companions with some personal matters before we march on Adamant.” Cullen said.

Cassandra nodded. “That is wise. We cannot know what will happen at Adamant. It is best to take care of any unfinished business before the attack.” She looked over at Amalia, then back at Cullen. “We may not get another chance.”   

Cullen sat quietly for a moment, watching as Amalia laughed at something Hawke had said, a strand of hair falling over her face as she did so. She straightened up, a playful smile still on her lips, and she caught Cullen’s gaze as she tucked the strand of hair back behind her ear. Her smile faded instantly, and Cullen could see the pain in her eyes as she did her best to give him an angry glare.

He turned back to Cassandra, who he realized had at least partially figured out his secret. “You’re right.” He said in earnest. “And I have some unfinished business that I could use your help with.”

\-----

“Thank you gentlemen for agreeing to do this.” Cassandra said as she led Hawke and Alistair to the training grounds.

“As if we had a choice.” Hawke whispered to Alistair.

Cassandra stopped, turning on her heel. “Please try to keep up.” She said, giving the men a deadpan stare.

Alistair and Hawke stared at each other for a moment, cowering a bit with eyes wide and eyebrows raised in fear, before they hurried to catch up with the Seeker. Though neither of them would openly admit it, Cassandra Pentaghast scared the Fade out of them both.

“It will really help our recruits prepare for the battle at Adamant to see how Grey Wardens and expert mages fight.” Cassandra said, stopping in front of the sparring ring. All of the recruits were gathered around the ring, pushing each other to get closer to the front, their eyes sparkling with awe. “Besides,” Cassandra added, “You are their heroes. They look up to you, so please set a good example.” She gave Hawke a pointed look as she said the last sentence.

“What?” Hawke asked, his mouth open in mock surprise.

“Just behave yourself.” Cassandra said flatly. “Do not disappoint me.”

Hawke and Alistair entered the sparring ring as Cassandra stood off to the side, crossing her arms in front of her.

As Hawke and Alistair circled each other, Alistair frowned, his lips pushed outward into a partial pout. “Why couldn’t we go to the tea party with Lia?” He asked. “It’s not fair. I bet there’ll be cheese.”

\-----

“Why couldn’t I go spar with Hawke and Alistair?” Amalia mumbled to herself as she walked to Josephine’s office. She had never really been one for these types of social gatherings, and the human concept of “tea parties” baffled her. She trained her face into a warm smile as she entered the ambassador’s office, nodding her head politely at the Antivan.

“Welcome, Inquisitor!” Josephine said, her face lighting up. “I’m so glad you could make it! Leliana is waiting in the war room--I have something to finish up before I join you, so please go ahead.”

Amalia could almost swear the ambassador sounded flustered, but she figured the woman was just excited to finally have Amalia join one of their tea parties. She left Josephine in her office and walked down the decrepit hallway to the war room. She wondered absently why they were having a tea party in the war room, but shook the thought from her head as she pushed open the large doors.

Amalia couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips when she saw not Leliana, but Cullen, standing in front of the war table. She quickly turned around to leave but Cullen was faster, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“Please don’t go, Mali. I need to explain.” He said, his voice almost a whisper.

She turned, pushing his hand off her shoulder and glaring at him. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.” She said.

Cullen looked away, unable to keep her gaze. “I understand.” He said. “But please, just let me explain everything.”

“Fine.” Amalia replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“When the Inquisitor left for the Western Approach, I was certain that my relationship--or whatever it was--with her was over. I did still have feelings for her, but I quickly developed feelings for you.” Cullen said.

Amalia walked over to the war table, placing her hands on the edge and leaning over it as she stared absently at the map.

“So what, you ditched me when you found out that your _first choice_ still wanted to be with you?” Amalia asked.

Cullen cleared his throat as he turned back towards Amalia, the speech he had prepared in his head forgotten. “That’s not what happened.” He said. “I’m so sorry that I made you feel that way--I never intended to hurt you.”

“Of _course_ not.” Amalia said. She picked up one of the map markers and clenched her fist around it. “And I’m sure you never _intended_ to get caught, either.” She turned her head and shot him a venomous look.

“Get caught doing _what_?” Cullen asked. He threw his hands up in the air. “The only thing I have done wrong here is misjudging the situation between myself and Lady Trevelyan.”

Amalia turned to face him, letting out a loud groan and throwing the map marker to the floor. It broke into pieces, one of them rolling over and landing next to Cullen’s boot. He frowned when he noticed it was one of his.

“So what happened then?” She asked. Her voice was even, though still dripping with a hint of rage. She leaned back against the war table, crossing her arms in front of her.

Cullen approached her warily, moving to stand just a foot in front of her. “After I...we...after our kiss, the Inquisitor surprised me in my office. I hadn’t even had time to process anything when she told me how sorry she was and how much she missed me and how she was going to commit to our relationship seriously this time. I was so in shock I didn’t know what to say.”

Amalia raised an eyebrow. “So you’d rather be with her now that she’s ‘committed’ herself to you?”

Cullen inhaled sharply as he tilted his head towards the ceiling. “Maker’s breath woman, stop putting words in my mouth! That isn’t what I said!”  

Amalia would have smirked at seeing the Commander so riled up were she not just a little terrified. She stared at him, wide-eyed and lips slightly parted. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke. “So what do you want?”

“I don’t know!” Cullen replied, tangling both hands in his hair as he paced in front of her. “I don’t know what I want. I thought the Inquisitor wanted to explore her options with other people and I was okay with that, as long as she stopped seeing me. Now she tells me she only wants to be with me. How am I supposed to react? It was my fault for misunderstanding her intentions when she left. I owe it to her to give this a chance.” He looked at Amalia imploringly.

Amalia took a step towards Cullen. “You didn’t answer my question.” She said. “What do _you_ want?” She asked, poking one finger into his breastplate.

Cullen looked down at her and shook his head. “I don’t know.” He said. “I have feelings for you, strong ones. I don’t know how they compare to my feelings for Trevelyan. It’s just...different. We’re about to march on Adamant, and she needs all the support she can get. If I were to break things off with her now, she could become emotional and her skills in battle will be compromised. I can’t take that risk. She is too important to the Inquisition.”

She looked up at Cullen and whispered, “I understand.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You do?”

She tilted her head down and closed her eyes, her hands balling into fists at her sides. When she looked back up at Cullen, he saw the tears falling slowly down her cheeks. Her lip quivered.

“No, I don’t!” She cried.

She let out a small sob and started half-heartedly banging her fists against his chest. She mumbled in between sobs about it not being fair, how could he do this to her, she hated him so much, as she continued to beat his chest with her hands. Cullen just stood there, taking it, unsure of what to say or do. It hurt him immensely to see her like this; to know that he was the one causing her this pain, and he cursed under his breath that fate had sought to mock him this way.

When Amalia’s fists were red and sore, she let her hands drop, still sniffling and sobbing weakly. Cullen reached out to wipe the tears from her cheeks, bringing his face closer to hers. She took a step closer, staring into his eyes and watching his pupils widen. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, pressing her lips to his--a soft, sad goodbye. She was about to pull away when Cullen returned the kiss, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her back into the war table. He leaned over her, one hand squeezing her hip as he pressed his body flush against hers. Their lips crashed together like ships against the rocks, precarious and unpredictable.

All at once Cullen stopped, pulling away and whispering, “I’m sorry,” as he bolted for the door. Amalia just stared after him; eyes still wet with unshed tears and lips still tasting of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not supposed to contain 700 words about fondue. What is my life coming to?


	11. Chapter 11

Maker, he was a fool. He had tried to clear things up with Amalia, and of course he had only made things worse. He wasn’t sure which had been the bigger mistake--kissing her again, or running away. And now Josephine and Cassandra were at least partially aware of his and Amalia’s...involvement. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do after he ran through Josephine’s office like a demon out of the Void. And of course there was no doubt that Leliana already knew everything there was to know about the whole situation. He couldn’t very well ask them to keep his secret from the Inquisitor. No, he would have to tell her himself, and soon.

He was about to have Jim send a message to Trevelyan when a scout burst through the door, clutching his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. “Ser, our forward scouts sent word that Livius Erimond has arrived at Adamant Fortress. He and Warden-Commander Clarel seem to be preparing for some sort of ritual. Our forces are ready to march on the fortress at your command, Ser.”

Cullen clutched his forehead. “Maker’s breath…” He exhaled heavily. “Send word to the other advisors and the Inquisitor. We need to leave as soon as possible. Tell all of our units in the area not to attack until we arrive.”

“Yes, Commander. Ser.” The scout saluted and ran from Cullen’s office.

\-----

What they found at Adamant was beyond anyone’s expectations. There were demons everywhere, Grey Wardens attacking them at every turn. After clearing the way for the Inquisition soldiers to get up the battlements, Alistair, Hawke, and Trevelyan went in search of Erimond and Clarel. Cullen had suggested that Amalia stay on the battlements with him, and Alistair and Hawke agreed, all concerned for Amalia’s safety. Begrudgingly, Amalia accepted, helping Cullen keep the battlements clear so their forces could continue climbing up the ladders to the fortress.

The battle seemed to be going well, until they heard the sound of heavy wings and a roaring screech from above. Cullen turned, looking up at the sky, and his blood went cold at the sight of Corypheus’ dragon. That foul beast represented Cullen’s greatest failing. This was the creature that had destroyed Haven, that had taken countless lives and severely injured many more, including the Inquisitor. Cullen felt responsible for all of it, thinking it was his lack of preparation that had left Haven vulnerable. He would not see this beast succeed again.

The remaining demons seemed to scatter at the sight of the dragon. It stalked the walls surrounding the central courtyard, where Trevelyan and her party had confronted Clarel. Feeling confident that his assistance was no longer needed on the battlements, Cullen took off running after the beast. He felt his stomach sink when he saw it chasing after the Inquisitor and her party, but he only ran faster. He heard footsteps behind him, keeping pace with him, and turned his head briefly to see Amalia.

“Go back!” He yelled, not stopping. “It’s not safe!”

She ignored him, and kept running. He was torn; should he turn around and stop Amalia, or keep running to go after the dragon? Either way she was going to be in danger, and his first priority was to kill the beast. At least if he kept Amalia near him, he could be there to protect her. He slowed down just enough for her to catch up. They didn’t speak, but she gave him an understanding nod.

\-----

As soon as Amalia heard the monster’s shrieks, old nightmares of the Archdemon flashed through her mind. She felt a pang of terror as she watched the dragon fly overhead; it looked exactly like the Archdemon she had slain over ten years before. She couldn’t hear this one in her thoughts, couldn’t feel it in her mind, though she did sense it somehow. She saw Cullen start running in the direction the dragon was flying, towards the Inquisitor and her party. _Towards Alistair._ If this beast really was some sort of Archdemon, it would take a Grey Warden to slay it. Amalia and Alistair were the only Grey Wardens there whose allegiances weren’t compromised.

She ran after Cullen, following him towards the dragon, towards Alistair. She would be Blighted if she was going to let Alistair sacrifice himself by killing the creature. She had been lucky, before. She should have died after killing the last Archdemon. This time, there was no magical loophole, and she was okay with that. She’d had over a decade more than she should have, she’d known love and loss, pure joy and pure misery. Perhaps she’d survived all those years ago in order to sacrifice herself here, now. It certainly beat waiting around for the Calling to drive her mad. As long as she was able to save Alistair, she was okay with dying today.

She was several paces behind Cullen when he turned, yelling at her to go back. She ignored him, keeping her pace as she watched the dragon shoot red sparks at the Inquisitor’s group, narrowly missing them as they turned a corner. She saw Cullen slow, waiting for her to catch up with him. He didn’t say anything, and for that she was grateful. She kept silent, giving him a slight nod of acknowledgement--they were in this together.

As they drew close to the central courtyard, Cullen stopped, throwing his arm out to stop Amalia as well. She followed his gaze to the dragon, flying in front of the Inquisitor on a crumbling section of the battlements, with Warden-Commander Clarel hanging limply in its mouth. Amalia screamed when the beast threw Clarel to the ground and started after the Inquisitor and her group. The dragon turned towards the sound of Amalia’s scream, and she prepared herself for its attack. Using the distraction, Clarel gathered up her strength and shot a powerful spell at the creature, causing the dragon to fall on the battlements.

Cullen held onto Amalia as they watched the wall crumble. Clarel and the dragon fell instantly. Amalia cried out as she watched Alistair and the rest of the party run, the wall falling to pieces beneath their feet. She tried to run towards them, to do _something_ , but Cullen’s arms around her held her in place. It looked as if they were going to make it--they were almost to safety when the rest of the wall collapsed beneath them. Amalia dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she watched them fall. It seemed like time froze for a moment, and a flash of green light surrounded the falling companions. In an instant, they and the light were gone, with no trace that they had even been there.

Amalia looked to Cullen, for as confused and grief-stricken as she was, she may have imagined the whole thing. He was kneeling next to her, his arms still wrapped tightly around her, and his face bore the same look of bewilderment as hers. Their eyes locked for a moment before Cullen pulled her flush against him, her face buried in the fur of his coat. She sobbed quietly as he stroked her hair. They stayed like that until the Inquisition’s forces captured the fortress. Surrounded by Inquisition soldiers and repentant Grey Wardens, they watched as the dragon recovered from its fall and flew away. As night fell and the fortress was being cleared out, they stayed, watching the place where their friends had vanished in mid-air.

When it got too dark to see, they went back to their camp outside the fortress. They sat around the campfire with the rest of the advisors and companions, everyone too grief-stricken to speak. Dorian, Vivienne, and Fiona had already tried everything they could think of to locate the Inquisitor’s party, but with no results. They theorized that the green light had come from Trevelyan herself, that she had opened up a rift and they had all fallen into it. Fiona suggested that they may be able to come back through the Fade rift that Erimond opened in the central courtyard, but it was a long shot. They may have been able to do more with Solas there, but he was gone with the Inquisitor, as were Blackwall and Cole, and of course Alistair and Hawke.

After a while, Varric spoke. “It’s not doing us any good to sit around here moping. Everyone get some rest and we’ll start fresh in the morning.”

Everyone went to their tents for the evening, except Amalia and Cullen. From where she sat, Amalia could see the green light of the rift in the distance, surrounded by soldiers. Every few minutes a shadow would fall from the rift, and her breath would catch as she strained to see if it was Alistair. Every time, her heart would sink as she watched the soldiers attack the demon that had come through. Despite all she had said about it being impossible for them to be together, Amalia loved Alistair. She did. She had always loved him, and she always would. She wished he had never sought out the Inquisition, wished he had stayed back in Ferelden. She wished she would have made him king, even if she could never have been his queen; at least then he would be safe.

Cullen sat near her, his thoughts a scattered mess. They still hadn’t spoken, and the longer the silence lasted, the harder it became to break. He thought of Trevelyan, of his friends, if they were okay, if they were coming back. He thought about how the Inquisition would go forward--or could it go forward?--without the Inquisitor. But, selfish bastard that he was, his mind kept coming back to Amalia. She was only a foot away from him but it was still much too far. He gazed at her as she watched the rift, seeing her hopes rise and fall as each new demon fell from the Fade. He could see her hopes start to dwindle, her disappointment growing deeper each time a demon fell from the rift and not Alistair. Cullen knew she still cared for him--he had been her friend and lover for more than a decade. Still, he couldn’t help but feel jealous, wondering if Amalia would fret like that over him. Maker, was he really that petty?

Cullen thought he saw a glint of light, snapping him back to reality. He watched as Amalia turned her head slightly, and light reflected off her cheeks. _She’s crying._ Before he could even finish the thought, his body was moving, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her to his chest. She leaned into him, her own arms weakly circling his waist as he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. She wanted to be angry, to tell him that he couldn’t do this, he didn’t deserve it. She wanted to tell him to leave and never come back, to yell at him for turning to her as soon as his girlfriend fell into the Fade. She wanted to be mean and cold and bitter to Cullen, but she couldn’t. A greater part of her wanted this, _needed_ this, to find comfort in his arms, his warmth. He moved to pick her up and she complied, allowing herself to relax in his hold. He carried her to his tent, laying her down slowly on the bedroll before he moved to lie on the ground.

Still crying, tears falling silently, Amalia reached for Cullen, grabbing his arm and pulling him back towards her. He obliged, removing his boots and outer clothing before climbing into the bedroll in his undershirt and breeches. He placed one arm under Amalia’s neck, the other wrapping around her waist as he pressed his chest to her back. She sighed, though it was hard to tell if it was contented or disappointed. Probably both. He felt her body shake and held her tighter, bringing the fur blanket up over them and tucking it in tight around their bodies.

“Mali?” Cullen whispered.

She sighed quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for typos I'm very sleepy right now but I wanted to finish this chapter and post it.


End file.
